Kaleon was sent back to his room.
Skarnhold was a fortress carved in shadow and fire, but even shadows had quiet corners. Kaleon walked its stone halls with a slow, measured gait—his steps unsure, haunted by visions and whispers that refused to fade. Despite the warmth of the hearths and the gold-veined torches that lit every corridor, the chill of that jungle vale still clung to him like frost on iron.
The court's suspicions hadn't lessened. If anything, they festered like an open wound.
Yet beyond the politics and rumors, there was a flicker of something gentler waiting for him—something that smelled faintly of honeycakes and wild lavender.
The doors to the family wing creaked open, and with it came a blur of color and shrieks.
"Kaleon! Kaleon's alive!"
Before he could blink, two small shapes barreled into him. Elryn and Malric, his youngest siblings, tackled his knees like joyous wolves. Elryn's hair had grown longer since he'd last seen her, tied in wild braids with colorful feathers; Malric wore a wooden dragon mask that was far too large for his face.
19
"You didn't die in the jungle!" Elryn squealed.
"I knew you wouldn't!" Malric added proudly. "I told Sir Meowlrick you'd fight off the demons with your eyebrows!"
Kaleon winced as Elryn poked a bruise on his side. "Glad you had faith in my facial hair, Mal. Ow."
Lady Vireya entered behind them, a warm smile playing at her lips. "They've been pestering the cooks and maids with questions for days. Now they'll finally sleep without drawing monster traps under their beds."
Kaleon knelt, pulling both children into a tighter hug. For the first time in what felt like days, his breath slowed. "I missed you both."
"Ew, you smell like mushrooms and sadness," Malric muttered.
Kaleon laughed. "It's my new cologne. Called 'Tragic Forest.'"
Later that evening, they gathered in the family solar. Lady Vireya insisted on one of her "supper feasts," which mostly consisted of overly sweet pastries, mulled cider, and far too many roasted carrots disguised as dragons.
Kaleon sat surrounded by warmth. Elryn and Malric bickered over who had the best dragon impression, while Vireya recounted a tale from her youth involving a noble lord, a stolen goose, and three terrified bathers.
But not everyone in the family shared in the merriment.
Near the fireplace, Aunt Cyvella watched him with a narrow gaze, her hands clutching prayer beads of obsidian and bone.
"Storms follow that one," she muttered, not bothering to hide her voice. "He speaks in tongues, draws fire from the skies. A child of omen."
Vireya's smile froze. "He's my child."
"Born under a blood eclipse. Whispers ancient names. You think that's coincidence?" Cyvella's voice dropped to a hiss. "The same signs that heralded the Ruinfall."
The next morning, Therion held true to his word.
Kaleon stood in the training courtyard, stretching sore muscles, while his third-eldest sister, Lysera, paced in front of him like a hawk eyeing a confused duckling.
"You're slower than last time," she said, flicking his ear.
"I was unconscious for three days."
"Excuses. Combat doesn't wait for naptime."
Lysera was a whirlwind with twin blades. Kaleon wielded a short spear. Their sparring began light—taunts and fancy footwork—but quickly escalated.
Clang. Parry. Spin.
Lysera smirked. "Your form's better. Maelor finally taught you not to trip over your own ego?"
Kaleon lunged, missed. "He tried. Ego's persistent."
She kicked his leg, sent him sprawling.
"Oof!" he wheezed.
"Dead again. You'd make a terrible ghost."
He lay on the dirt, groaning. "I think I just saw my ancestors waving."
—
Later, they sat by the courtyard fountain, nursing bruises and drinking cool springwater.
"I had another vision," Kaleon murmured.
Lysera arched a brow. "Of what?"
"Chains. A dragon. And me... freeing it."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Maybe you're meant to break something."
He blinked. "Like reality?"
She grinned. "Or our father's expectations. That'd be scarier."
That evening, Kaleon ventured to the hidden chamber again. The shard pulsed more strongly now, and as his fingers hovered above it, images seared his mind—this time not of prophecy, but of memory.
He saw Maelor, bleeding and surrounded by figures in cloaks. A hidden map, tucked beneath the altar. The whisper of betrayal—but not his uncle's.
He saw a black crown burning atop a mountain of ash.
And beneath it all... a girl's voice.
Find me.
Kaleon stumbled back, heart thundering. He knew now that the monolith wasn't just a relic. It was a beacon. A gate.
And someone—or something—was calling him.
From beneath.
From beyond.
His journey hadn't ended in the jungle.
It had only just begun.